What I Thought
by bonniebonbon
Summary: Hello, I'm Harry Potter, and this is the story of my life. My crazy life. My dangerous/freaking awesome life. Except this time, I'm not always the spotlight. Completely CANON. Written from different HP character's POV. Please R&R :)
1. Intro

Hello, I'm Harry Potter, and here is the story of my life. My _crazy _life. My _dangerous/freaking awesome life. _

This story is going to involve heartbreaks, a lot of killing and stupid potions lessons. I'm not going to lie to you, it's not going to be easy.

But hey! I survived it! So you should, too! Except, of course, you're not Harry Potter, the Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, Undesirable No. 1 (if you decide to go the other approach).

But before you think I'm an arrogant, big-headed, self-centered person (wizard, really)…you should read my book. Really. You should.

Ok, do whatever you want, but I'm not gonna promise you that you get an autograph!

(See, now I got your attention). What's so great about this book is that it's written from different perspectives. My friends and family helped all wrote a chapter in their POV. But we made an agreement not to look at each others chapters.

Apparently it's an invasion of privacy. Which totally sucks. Because I really wanted to know what people really think of me.

'Cause, you know, some of these people….they're not exactly my _friends. _And I can't say I didn't have to _crucio_ them a bit.

JK! Chill. I just asked my darling wife Ginny to start bat-bogey hexing.

Now….to the dedications. Honestly I think these are a waste of time but Hermoine said it's polite to do so.

I would like to thank my wife, Ginny, because she took care of James and Albus (to be precise: make sure they don't burn the house down) while I've been stuck in my office writing my life's story on a muggle portable computer called a laptop (whenever Arthur's here I hide it, though. Don't exactly want him tearing it apart to see how it works, running around everywhere reciting facts about "lapdogs", and convincing muggles he is one of them since he knows about this newly founded device).

I would like to thank my mom and dad, just because that's the proper thing to do and without them I wouldn't exist and be able to conquer Voldemort. And basically every author thanks his parents, so…yeah.

I would like to thank Albus (enter endless amount of middle names here) Dumbledore for giving me good advice and having a good name so my son wouldn't be ashamed for being named after a really old guy (eh…no offence). One thing that I didn't like…giving me that darn invisibility cloak! I know it helped me a bunch (e.g. sneaking into Hogsmeade, throwing snowballs at Malfoy and Crew, sneaking out to meet my mirror-parents…), but it seems like its Albus' new toy! I used it to save the world and find out stuff (never mind the sneaking into Hogsmeade, throwing snowballs and sneaking out to see my parents). Well, he uses it to give people heart attacks, tickling people and throwing snowballs at people! (Malfoy is an exception, ok? At least I don't throw it at teachers! But of course, if I had the chance, it would've been Snape, even though I named my son after him _and _he turned out to be good.)

Talking about Snape, I would like to thank him, even though he hated me, even though he confused everyone, even though he had to kill many people to help stop Voldy. He makes a good character in my book and he was really brave. He had no choice but to hate everyone, which made him the most unpopular teacher in the entire school (he passed with flying colours) You have to admit it, that's brave. An entire school of magical kids wanting to rip your head off? Gee, that must be hard.

This might be ironic, but…I'd like to thank Voldemort. Yes, yes, even though he did try to kill me eight times (yes, I counted. I'm sorry, but I take the fact that someone wants to kill me VERY personally!) and he killed a bunch of other people including my parents. But hey, I wouldn't have a bestselling book if it wasn't for him.

Because I will probably bore you to death (if I haven't already) I'm going to list a bunch of people off that I'd like to thank, without the reason…too bad, read the books.

I'd like to thank Sirius, Luna, Neville, Mad-Eye, The Weasleys, Mr. Ollivander, Dobby, Kreacher, the Professors, Hagrid, Madame Pomfrey, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley…the rest of the Order, Oliver Wood, The Centaurs and Hedwig. I'd also like to thank my kids, Lily Luna, Albus Severus and James Sirius, for being such awesome kids and not bothering me while I write this book. (at least Lily…) And a bunch more people that I can't exactly name right now because my laptop's battery is running out.

Last but not least, I'd like to thank Ron and Hermione. They are my best friends, and even though they're all smoochy smoochy now doesn't change that.

Now what are you waiting for? Read my life already! (Sorry Hermoine!) _Our _lives.


	2. HARRY POTTER - Dudley's Birthday

**A/N: Hey guys, check out my other fanfic, "19 Reasons Why I Broke Up With You". Thanks! Here's the new chapter!**

My uncle and aunt are quite proud of their normal-ness. Anything who isn't normal is bad. _Anyone _that isn't normal is bad.

Like me. They hate me.

Don't go all, "Oh, how can you say that, they're family! Of course they love you, maybe they just have a funny way of showing it!" on me.

I can assure you. They. Hate. Me.

Unless, their funny way of showing it is indeed very funny. Like, making me sleep in a dusty cupboard full of spiders and what not. Or feeding me the scarcest amount of food. Or treating me like an "it", not a "he". And ordering me to do stuff for them like I'm a servant. Without the pay.

"UP! UP! UP! Get Up! NOW!"

There's my dear Aunt Petunia. Isn't she lovely.

"I'm up, I'm up, coming," I said impatiently.

"Come faster!" Her loud screechy voice came from behind the unfortunately not-very-thick door which separated them. Fine. I will come faster.

I got up, banged my head on the roof of my room, cursed, recovered, and opened the door immediately.

"Ow! Vernon, he just hit me!" she screamed. I smiled. _Got the effect I wanted, didn't it?_

"Well actually the door did…" I started.

Oh, look. Uncle Vernon arrived. Now you can meet my whole family. Yay.

"WHAT did you do, boy?" Uncle Vernon's moustache was wiggling a bit and his cheeks puffed up to the size of a blown up balloon. I probably would've laughed…I almost did, for it was quite a sight…but I really didn't want extra punishment. And I was pretty used to it…he got mad a lot.

To my surprise, he didn't give me any punishment. And no, he's not changing. So don't go all, "See? He loves you more than you think! Change your attitude, mister, just because you don't get everything you want doesn't mean they are evil! They gave you clothes and food after all, AND they took you in! They could've just left you!" Yes, that's right. They could've just left me.

I don't know who left me on their steps, probably a nurse or orphanage person. All I know is my parents died in a car crash and I got stuck with the Dursleys'. Sometimes I wish I died in that car crash.

I bet they regret it now, bringing me in. And no, that doesn't hurt me one bit. I am reminded (daily) that I am a waste of food and space. And it's not like I like this place, either.

Anyway, I realized the reason for the lack of punishment. It was Dudley's Birthday! And there was no way they would trust me to stay home by myself. I'd probably destroy it, according to Aunt Petunia's theory on why I shouldn't be left home.

"Go make breakfast. Chop chop!" Uncle Vernon barked, bringing me back to reality. I quickly ran to the kitchen and turned on the stove. I washed my hands, took out the meat…no need to get into how to cook bacon right now. Besides, you wouldn't know how to do it properly. Dudley, apparently, wanted to have his bacon in a particular way, according to Aunt Petunia. (I doubt it, though. Dudley just shoved everything into his mouth, no matter what it is). Since it made Dudley happy on his birthday, Aunt Petunia made sure I knew how to make the bacon perfect for her little Diddlekins. Meaning I spent every hour of the week leading up to this particular day learning how to cook bacon.

To make a Dursley happy, ruin your week learning how to cook bacon the Chef's way for a guy/pig that will practically eat mud.

"Thirty-Six." Dudley said, looking up to his parents. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"Alright, 37 then," said Dudley. I could already feel the tantrum coming on. I started eating my bacon faster in fear of Dudley turning the table over.

"We'll buy you another two present while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley, not exactly the brightest, screwed up his face like he was trying to figure out something complicated. "So I'll have thirty….thirty…"

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia. That's really sad, that she had to help her eleven year old son add.

Well, there's step two. To make a Dursley happy, waste your money on gifts that guy/pig will [usually] throw out window.

The telephone rang. And rang. And rang. Everyone glared at me.

Oh so I'm supposed to pick up the phone now? In addition to cooking, picking up disgusting stuff, washing the floors, windows, car, dishes and clothes? In addition to the endless amount of chores I already have?

I walked to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Boy, my leg's broken so I'm not going to be able to show you Ginger's old cat toy."

"Oh, alright, that's too bad," Who am I kidding this is the best day ever! "I hope your leg gets better. Bye." I hung up the phone and did my happy dance. Modified, though, because my family was staring at me funny (I know, they do this all the time but this time they were staring at me, like _really _funny).

"What was that about? And who was that?"

"Miss Figg broke her leg and she can't take me!" It was funny how I was the only one happy about this. All of them broke out at once.

"That's horrible!" Aunt Petunia.

"What? We're stuck with him?" Uncle Vernon.

"Noooo! I don't want him to come! MOMMY!" Guy/Pig.

"Yep! You're stuck with me!" I said happily. Oh no, don't think I actually _want _to be stuck with them. I was just happy I didn't need to learn all about Miss Figg's potential cat names and about each breed in the history of catness. And that I get to go to a cool place…it's Dudley's birthday…of course his parents will bring him somewhere cool.

"Could you ask your friend Yvonne?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"No. She's on holiday, " said Aunt Petunia.

"How about the neighbors?" Uncle Vernon pressed.

"They probably don't know Harry exists, " Aunt Petunia sighed.

"Dudley's Nutrition Counselor?"

"I don't want Harry getting that nonsense into his head. He'll start thinking he should get fed better or something."

"Dudley-" I start

"Dudley's different." Aunt Petunia snapped back.

"Dentist?" Uncle Vernon kept going.

"No."

"Boss?"

"No way!"

"Babysitter?"

"You mean…a paid one? I am NOT wasting my money on him."

"Anyone?"

"No."

Dudley's face got all muskrat-y, like he was about to cry. Of course, he wasn't. He hasn't cried since grade 1, when he punched a kid and his mother grounded him. He promised that he would never do such a thing again. Of course, he did…and still does. Unfortunately, his punch bag turns out to me 99% of the time (the 1% is reserved for the toys).

"I…don't….want…him….t-t-to….come…." the guy/pig pretend-wailed. It was amazing how oblivious Aunt Petunia was...when someone is saying "sniff sniff", isn't it pretty obvious?

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" Aunt Petunoa cried. Meanwhile Dudley and I were having an intense silent conversation that went something like this:

"What the hell is your problem?" Me.

"Hehe, got you again!" Dudley

"Well, I'm not the one getting called Dinky Duddydums, am I? What are you, 2?"

"Whatever! Look how much presents I got!"

"You're so spoiled."

"…"

I don't think he exactly knew the definition of 'spoiled'.

"It means that you're a brat and get everything you want." I added. Sorry, I had to help him. That's a lame way to win. We all know that academic-wise, I had a big advantage. What can I say? I'm kind to the core.

Dudley turned from a look of confusion to anger. But he didn't get to say anything because Uncle Vernon interrupted our conversation.

Yes. We said all that with our eyes.


	3. RONALD WEASLEY-Ready for Hogwarts

**A/N: Hey, I'm SO sorry, I haven't updated for SUCH a long time! Anyway, enjoy the chapter-and remember to review! Also, if you have an idea for this story, please tell me! **

"Okay, remember, it's, _Sunshine, Daisies, Butter Mellow-"_

_"-turn this stupid fat rat yellow". _

"Yeah, yeah, you're pulling my leg, it's not going to work…"

"Of course it will! What's the risk in trying anyway?"

"I don't bloody know, you're Fred and George! You're bloody unpredictable!" Stupid twins. They're lying, I know it. They always pick on me.

Meet me. I'm Ronald Weasley. 1,2,3,4&5….sixth child of a poor family. Always picked on by my older brothers; always gets everyone's old stuff. Even if I do something great, it won't matter, because my brothers did them first.

Meet me and my pathetic life.

"Dear, don't forget Scabbers." Mother shoves Percy's old rat in my hands. We couldn't afford a new one, so…I ended up with this old thing. Scabbers, meet…everyone. Everyone, meet Scabbers.

"Father, have you seen my prefect badge. I cannot go to school without it."

Oh. Here comes Mr. Know-It-All. Meet…Percy.

"Is Harry Potter going to go to school this year? He's eleven this year, he should be! Oh my god, what if he looks at me? Is he handsome? I bet he's drop dead gorgeous. I bet he's smart, too. Mom, do you know where my sweater went? It's a bit small, but you can make it bigger, right? I need to make a good impression."

That is my [only] sister, Ginny. She's been obsessed with Harry Potter since she was 4. Honestly, she wants to marry him.

Ha. Like that'll ever happen.

"Fred, George, where did you put the Floo powder this time?" Mum.

(Fred and George: Innocently whistling…)

"Mother, just do a simple Accio spell, it's really easy, I got it on my first try…" Percy.

"Accio Floo Powder!" A pot of Floo powder zoomed across the room from the direction of Fred and George's bedroom.

"I knew it!" Mum.

"We're late!" Dad.

"Help me…" Me.

"Just what I expected, packed with muggles, of course." Molly asked. "Now, what's the platform number?"

"Nine and three-quarters!" Ginny said. "Mum, can't I go…"

Ginny's wanted to go to Hogwarts for a long time. She's been complaining about it everyday…no, every hour…probably every minute, actually…it's so annoying to have a sister. I don't know why Mum wanted a daughter so badly.

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

Of course Percy goes first. He's the _prefect_, he's more important than everyone else.

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George. Honestly, woman, call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell _I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred."

Stupid twins. They always do this. No one can tell who's who. I bet they switch their Weasley sweaters all the time to confuse us. They love pranking people.

Fred (or George? Who knew) ran through the wall and George (or Fred? Honestly, having identical brothers is not easy) followed him.

I hope I get into Gryffindor, my entire family's been there. But I bet I'll be in Hufflepuff, I'm not brave at all. Fred and George would never let me hear the end of it.

"Excuse me," said a boy. He was quite short, and he had broken glasses and green eyes. He looked poor, like me, because of the clothes he was wearing. I think we could be friends.

"Hullo dear, first year at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." Mum pointed at me, and I could see the boy observing me. How tall I am. How long my nose is. How big my hands and feet are. How ugly I am.

If I had three wishes, they would be that I was handsome, sorted into Gryffindor and had enough money to buy a Nimbus 2000. But when am I going to get those?

"Yes, the thing-the thing is, I don't know how to-"

"How to get on the platform?" Oh come on, it's not that hard, just run through the bloody wall! Hasn't this guy heard about Platform 9 and ¾ before?

"Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

Wait! Why does this stranger get to go before me?

"Er-ok." The boy walked towards the wall, then started to run faster and faster. Soon he disappeared through the wall.

"Come on, Ron, we don't have all day!" Yes, mum. I'm going, mum.

I run towards the wall but instead of going through I fall back. "Ow."

Ginny laughed. "That's the wall between ten and eleven! You have to go through nine and ten, don't you know that?"

Of course I screw it up. I always screw everything up. Can't even bloody run through a wall. And now, I bet I'll be late for the train, and won't go to Hogwarts this year. And then everyone will think I was a squib.

"Oh, ok." I pick myself up and push my cart towards the wall between nine and ten.

I'm through! And the train is still here; people won't think I'm a squib, after all!

Mum and Ginny appear right behind me. "Come on, Ron, don't block the entrance!" We all move forwards, toward the train.

"Fred, George? Are you there?"

"Coming, mum." Mum faced me. "Ron, you've got something on your nose." She took out her handkerchief and started cleaning my nose.

"_Mum_-geroff." This is embarrassing! There's so many people here, I think some people are looking at me.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" Guess who.

"Shut up." I say.

"Where's Percy?"

"He's coming now."

"Can't stay long, Mother, I'm up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"

"Oh, are you a _Prefect, _Percy? You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it. Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

Well, it was true. Percy has been bragging about it ever since he's got the letter. He even wore the badge to sleep, and he polished the bloody thing at _least_ three times a day.

_"Mum, I can do that, I'm a prefect now."_

_"Mum, did you see my prefect badge anywhere? I seem to have lost it."_

_"I will take care of them, Mum, you go rest. I am, after all, a prefect now."_

Blimey! I've heard the word, "prefect" at least ten thousand times this summer!

"Oh, shut up." Percy the _prefect._

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?"

"Because he's a _Prefect." _There's the stupid word again. You know, I bet Mum thinks Prefect means Perfect. "All right, dear, well, have a good term-send me an owl when you get there." Percy left, probably walking towards the _prefects _compartment to talk with his fellow _prefect _friends. Or is it perfect?

"Now you two-this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've-you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blow up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet." Oh great, give them ideas.

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum." What did I tell you?

"It's _not funny. _And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up." Stupid twins. I'm only two years younger than them, but they still treat me like a five year old.

"Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?

"Who?"

"_Harry Potter!" _Oh great. I bet Ginny's going to-

"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please…"

Told you so.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there-like lightning."

Wow, really? The boy was Harry Potter? _The _Harry Potter? The boy-who-lived, the one every witch and wizard knows?

And to think, that I thought we could be friends.


End file.
